You have recorded my troubles.
You have kept a list of my tears.
Aren't they in your records? ~Ps. 56:8
For our God does not primarily catalogue the endless stream of sins. He is God, not a tabloid informant out for dirt, for the flame sensationalist ugly. I forget this. And there are unspoken parts of me that think He makes no records at all but forgets me, the blind, deaf and dumb God.
But I touch the paper where He's left the trail of His heart. He is love, the tender Physician God who keeps tab of the every ache, a doting Father who soul-fissures when His child cries, the God who keeps the ledgers of every pain, every scrape, every brimming, falling, searing tear.
God does not slumber for He cannot cease to bear testimony to our hurt.
God keeps a list.
It's the wildest Love that drives the Father to record His child's every lament. We never ache without God attending, and He can't stand to see a tear fall to the floor. God cups our grief and "puts our tears in His bottle" (Ps. 56:8).
Today is recorded in the heavens and its pains are written with the wet of tears of God who "hurts with the hurt of my people." (Jeremiah 8:21)
credit to Anne Voskamp at http://www.aholyexperience.com